Page 7 of Gabriel

The room reeked of coffee and too many sleepless nights.

“I see you had a wilder night than I did,” I said.

Nikola flinched, turned, blinked at me, and then smiled. “All my nights are wilder than yours, old man.”

He yanked off the shirt and tossed it aside.

“Jesus. Couldn’t you have kept that on a little longer?”

He scoffed. “You’d rather look at a bloody shirt than my abs,Uncle?”

“Now you call me uncle. It sounds perverted while you’re standing there half undressed. And by the way, I’d rather stare directly into the sun than at your abs, little nephew.”

He rolled his eyes. “Nothinglittleabout me, fucker. What are you doing here? You look like you’re about to bury a body. Hate to break it to you, but I’ve got my own to deal with.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I really don’t want to know.”

Nikola grinned. “Didn’t think so.”

My eyes flicked to the bloodied shirt on the floor. “Where’d you get the suit?”

He shrugged. “Some asshole at Revelation. It cost me an arm and a leg, but it was worth it.”

“You were at the club too?” I asked, surprised.

Nikola tilted his head. “Judging by that question, so were you. Staking your claim, huh? Fucking finally. Any longer and you’d be limping around with a cane, staring at Amara like some old creep.”

“It’s a good thing we keep it all in the family, nephew, because nobody tops the creep label like you do.”

“Must be the Santos blood or some shit.” His grin widened. “Oh, by the way, Anya texted me. Said she’s worried about you. Mentioned some weird shit… Something about shifters, chickens, and blue aliens, and then that you’re worried? I figured she was drunk texting.”

I folded my arms. “My sister doesn’t get drunk.”

“Yeah, sure. Anyway, why are you suddenly worried about aliens and chickens?”

“I’m not,” I said in an exasperated tone. “I’m worried about Jetmir.”

That made him pause. “Amara’s Jetmir?”

God, how I hated hearing it phrased like that. I was Amara’s, not that smug bastard who had suddenly decided to sniff around Anya like she was his next meal.

“I ran into him at Revelation,” I said, skipping the unnecessary emotional detour.

Nikola blinked. “Jesus Christ. Revelation was the hotspot tonight, huh? What, was he into some orgy shit?”

“I wish,” I muttered. “No. He wanted to meet me. He made the most disturbing proposition.”

Nikola’s eyes widened. “Get the fuck out. He’s into your Colombian ass?”

I groaned. “Not like that,” I snapped. “He wants to make a deal: Anya for Amara.”

Nikola let out a long, low whistle. “Did not see that coming.”

“Yeah, neither did I,” I hissed. “Anya’s never even met the guy. I need help handling him.”

Nikola’s face shifted. The humor drained out of it.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he said. “You don’t screw around with the Satan twins. You tell him ‘no, thanks,’ walk away, keep your sister close, and he’ll move on. Eventually.” He didn’t believe a word of it. I could tell, and so could he. Which is why he added, “We can only hope.”